


Be Kind

by cassandracalls



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Abuse, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Mental Health Issues, Trans Tim Drake, but in an indirect kind of way, jovial agony, just the preamble, not quite sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 15:12:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassandracalls/pseuds/cassandracalls
Summary: What do you do when Harley Quinn keeps turning up in the kitchen on the Watchtower?This, this is what you do.





	1. Prologue

The first time it happened Batman was called, because of course he was. Who else would you call?

He was spectacularly less helpful than everyone had hoped. He listened as they told him what was going on, said two words and hung up.

The two words, if you’re curious, were

 

“Be kind.”

 

So they were, kind, because if Batman tells you to be kind to someone then it’s probably best if you are. Also being kind to people is just a good idea in general.

 

And that is how the Justice League’s problem with Harley Quinn breaking into The Watchtower, their orbital base of operations, and hanging out in the kitchen began. At least she made good pancakes.

Just so you don’t get the wrong idea, this story isn’t about the pancakes.


	2. Green Arrow

The second time it happened Oliver Queen said he’d deal with it. (You know Ollie right? The Green Arrow. He’s what you’d get if Batman was a Robin Hood fetishist instead of a Furry.)

Well, Ollie, he said he’d deal with this.

 

“I’ll deal with this.” He said.

 

He gave Dinah a look (Dinah, Dinah Lance, The Black Canary, fishnets and a killer voice) when she snorted, but was undeterred. He strode into the kitchen, head held high. That is not how he left. Slunk would be a better word, but we’ll get to that soon enough.

Anyway, Ollie strode into the kitchen, head held high, only to be confronted by a ‘shuka-shuka-shuka-shuka’ sound.

Harley Quinn had a cocktail shaker in her hands and a smile that could strip paint from walls plastered across her face (not literally, it’s not like, one of her powers or anything).

 

Now, fetishes aren’t the only place Green Arrow and Batman diverge, they also have different weaknesses. While Batman’s weakness may be, well, let’s not get into that right now (*coughoverextendinghimselfcough*), Ollie’s Achilles Heel is fun.

And Harley Quinn? Harley Quinn can do fun. It may not be what her doctorate is in but it is right up there among her top skills. 

 

So, with her paint stripping smile (still not literal) she poured two drinks and it was one the best cocktails Ollie had ever had. It was also one of the first he had ever had, that day anyway. She called it a Marzipanache, because of course she did.

Other drinks she made included:

  * Black Christmas (it was red, but it did have nutmeg in it).
  * Menorahty Report (served in nine glasses, each on set on fire).
  * Sea Tease (salty and mixed in her cleavage).
  * Poussin Ivy (green and smelled vaguely of fish - don’t ask).
  * Victor Fries (a frozen drink you ate by dipping french fries in).
  * Chaat Woman (made mostly of chick peas - really, don’t ask).
  * Seratronin (antidepressants and sake).
  * Killer Choc (it may have involved absinthe).
  * And a host of other things, some more ‘adventurous’ than others.



 

Not that drinking is all they did. There may have been a few hands of cards. And by ‘may’ I mean ‘were’ and by ‘few’ I mean ‘many’.

Now, Ollie fancied himself a decent card player, and to be fair to him, he was, but decent isn’t always good enough. Decent wasn’t good enough.

Ollie would say he had a run of bad luck. Anyone else would say he got played, and they wouldn’t even bother to hide their smile when they said it.

 

It started off well enough, a few practice hands, a little back and forth and the drinks kept being drank and then there may have been stakes all of a sudden. It started off with playing for clothes, because of course it did. And Ollie was doing really well, right up until he wasn’t.

Harley was down to her underwear, a worried look on her face. Well, not worried so much as happily tipsy and unconcerned. Ollie didn’t read her as well as he thought he did.

Before he knew it Ollie was naked, except for his mask and hat (well, you gotta let a guy keep a little dignity at least). 

He probably should have stopped there. He didn’t.

In the end he was down his clothes, quite a lot of money, two properties, fifty hours of archery lessons and a sidekicking option.

Harley got the lessons, Ollie got to be the sidekick.

When it was over and he slunk out of the kitchen it wasn’t his head that hat was covering.


	3. Black Canary

The third time it happened Ollie, a little wiser after the last time, decided not to deal with it. He may have lost his dignity but he wanted to keep some of his money.

 

“I may have lost my dignity but I want to keep some of my money!” He said.

 

Dinah (Lance, the Black Canary, I’m sure I’ve mentioned her before, y’know, all fishnets and a killer voice) smacked him round the back of the head and walked into the kitchen.

 

There was no ‘shuka-shuka-shuka-shuka’ sound this time, no cocktails being made. What there was was Harley sitting on the kitchen counter drawing on her arm with permanent markers.

 

“Harley?” Dinah’s voice was tentative and she could see a look of intense concentration on Harley’s face as she drew.

 

Harley glanced over to the door, her eyes wide and full of innocence. When she realised who it was a big, genuine grin split her face.

She hopped off the counter, sending pens tumbling to the floor and bounced over to Dinah, wrapping her up into a tight hug.

 

“Dinah!” Harley said.

 

“whuuuuu” Dinah said in a having the air squeezed out of you in a friendly manner way and not the my voice will now knock down this wall way.

 

It was the kind of greeting you might expect from an old friend but they weren’t old friends, not exactly. Sure they’d given each other concussion multiple times, and in the superhero community that did count for something. They’d even had a few quite intimate moments over the years, that’s the emotional kind of intimate, not the physical kind (not that Harley would have minded the physical kind. What? I’m just sayin’. Have you seen the Black Canary? Because Harley has!).

 

The hug. The tight, it’s so good to see you, air squeezing hug is when Dinah started to forget that she was trying to get Harley to leave. 

It didn’t take long for her to finish forgetting.

 

“That’s beautiful.” Dinah said, gesturing to Harley’s arm where she had drawn an intricate trail of vines and leaves, but only after Harley had put her down and she’d gotten some air back into her lungs.

 

“Thanks! You want I should you yours?”

 

“Not with permanent marker.”

 

“I got eyeliner.”

 

“Sure,” Dinah said with a shrug.

 

Harley grabbed her makeup bag, upended it on the counter and picked out various eyeliners before dragging Dinah down to the floor where they sat cross-legged as Harley began to draw. She had that same expression of concentration on her face Dinah noticed when she first walked in.

 

The makeup tattoos turned into makeovers, turned into doing each others hair, multiple times, turned into talking in whispers and giggling and shooing away anyone else who wanted to use the kitchen, turned into Dinah standing up.

 

“You’re leaving?” Harley asked, a tremor in her voice.

 

“Only for a minute, I’ll be right back.”

 

While she was alone Harley’s eyes glanced nervously around the room before her head twisted to check the corners.

 

When Dinah came back Harley was staring vacantly into one of the corners.

 

“Harley.”

 

“huhmmmfp” Harley said as she got a face full of fabric.

 

“I figured if we’re having a slumber party we may as well do it properly.”

 

“Flannel?” Harley said, inspecting the face thwapping fabric. “Ya run across rooftops in lingerie but ya sleep in flannel pj’s?”

 

“What?” Harley looked up to see that Dinah had already changed into a pair of pyjamas. “They’re comfy.”

 

“True.”

 

Dinah closed the door as Harley started to change.

 

“Whatcha do that for?” Harley asked.

 

“Because it’s a slumber party, not a peep show.”

 

“Spoilsport!”

 

Harley stuck out her tongue, Dinah rolled her eyes, then they both ate ice cream.

 

It was about the time everyone else wanted to be asleep that they started singing.

Now Black Canary and Harley Quinn singing together is a sight to behold. It’s certainly a better sight to behold than it is a sound to behold and it is not a quiet sound to behold. There was nowhere in the Watchtower that they couldn’t be heard. The only reason they couldn’t be heard outside the Watchtower was because sound doesn’t travel in a vacuum and even then it was an uphill struggle for the vacuum.

 

By the end of the night no one had slept and very few people were happy about that fact. Two to be precise, two people were happy about it and there’s a high chance those two people were Dinah and Harley.

 

When the kitchen door opened in the morning a lot of eighties power ballads had been sung, ice cream eaten, they were both covered in body art and of the thirty or so hair styles that had been tried there were remnants of about twenty atop each head. At some point there may even have been glitter.

 

Ollie gave Dinah a look that said ‘and you did so much better’ as she left the kitchen. So she smacked him round the back of the head again.


	4. Robin

The seventh time it happened Robin (you know him, he’s a shorter, happier, more colourful version of Batman, who hangs around with Batman) was there. Now Tim Drake (the Robin in question, there have been a few of them so it’s best to be specific) was a Gotham hero, wore the bat and everything, so he had some experience with Harley Quinn and, over time their relationship had become less adversarial as she put more distance between her and the Joker.

 

This time she had put a wooden chopping block on the wall and was throwing knives at it with an accuracy that made you not want to be what she was aiming at.

 

“Harley? You okay?”

 

She turned to him, knives in her hands and a very fake smile on her face.

 

“‘Course I am Birdy, don’tcha know Harley’s always at her best!”

 

Tim gave her a look that told her he knew exactly how much of a lie that was, then he winced and put a hand to his stomach.

 

“Cramps or fight?” Harley asked.

 

“Cramps.” Tim said in a resigned voice before he realised, his eyes, that you couldn’t see beneath his mask, widened. “Oh fu… a fight. A fight.” Then he sighed. “dammit!”

 

Then Harley threw a bar of chocolate at his head. With force.

 

“Jeez Harley.” He caught it easily. “What the heck?”

 

“If ya couldn’t catch ya wouldn’t be in the cape.”

 

He shrugged as he took a bite, she wasn’t wrong.

 

“‘Sides, ya pass like a boss.” Tim smiled at that. “And it ain’t like anyone in the community knows.”

 

“Really?”

 

“They ain’t all the nicest o people, trust me kiddo, if they knew, you’d know, ya know?”

 

“nks arls” Tim said, absolutely failing to articulate around a mouthful of chocolate, sliding down a cabinet to sit on the floor.

 

“What’s going on Harley?” He swallowed before he spoke this time.

 

“Not.” A knife thunked into the chopping board. “A.” Thunk. “Thing.” Thunk.

 

“ **Harley.** ” He used his best ‘I’m Batman’ voice on her. It was not effective. Well, it was effective, just not in the way he wanted. Harley burst out laughing as she pulled the knives out so she could throw them again. It’s entirely possible Tim was laughing along with her.

 

“Harley, come on.” He patted the floor as he spoke.

 

Harley sighed, it was quite the sigh. It crammed about three and a half years of theatrics into four seconds. Knives clattered to the floor and she flumped down next to Tim. He didn’t expect her to sit down, which is a good thing because she didn’t. She lay on the floor with her head in his lap. Tim automatically started stroking her hair.

 

“He’s comin’ for me again.” She said after a few minutes. She didn’t need to say who he was. They were both well aware of who he was.

 

“He’s still locked up.”

 

“How long zat ever last?”

 

“He say something?”

 

“Nah. It’s just that time again. He’ll get out. He’ll come for me. Act like nuthin’ ever changed. He don’t like it when ya say no.”

 

“And you’re worried what he’ll do when you say no.”

 

“I’m scared I’ll say yes.”

 

Tim didn’t say anything, just gave Harley the quiet and space she needed to say, or not say, what she wanted to.

 

“Bein’ round him breaks a part o’ me.” She paused for a moment. “The part that cares about who I am. Makes me crawl inside a myself ‘til I can’t see out.”

 

A shiver ran through Harley at the thought. Tim kept on stroking her hair and with his free hand he rubbed her arm.

 

“We’ll do everything we can to keep him away from you.”

 

“Thanks Birdy.”

 

And they stayed like that while Harley waited for the greasy, itchy feeling that made her want to peel her skin off go away.


	5. Zatanna

The eleventh time it was the smell. Someone was baking and it smelt good. That is how Zatanna (you’ll know her if you’ve ever been to Vegas, she’s a magician who also does magic, if you ever hear her talking backwards you should start to worry) was drawn to the kitchen. The smell.

 

Harley was baking up a storm, there were already plates full of cookies and an elaborately decorated cake on the countertop with more in the oven. The flour on her face was barely distinguishable from her pale skin. As she was baking she was wearing oven gloves and an apron. As she was Harley Quinn she was wearing nothing else.

That, as it happens, had a much bigger effect on Zatanna than the smell of baking. Also, it didn’t help that when she walked into the kitchen Harley was bent over the oven. If Zatanna were drinking she would have sprayed liquid all over the floor. At that precise moment in time she had never been more aware of how big a gay mess she was.

 

Harley, Zatanna tried to say, but it came out as a kind of a breathy moan. Harley turned at the noise, a smile on her face. The smile turned into a grin when she saw who it was. That was a grin that had nothing virtuous about it.

 

“Hey Zee,” Harley said. “don’tcha just love the smell of baking?”

 

Zatanna’s throat was dry, maybe it wasn’t so good that she didn’t have a drink after all.

“Hi Harley.” She croaked. “You’re um…” When her words didn’t happen she gestured uselessly with her hands.

 

“Baking!”

 

“Uh-huh.” Zatanna agreed, and then added in a whisper. “that too”

 

“So,” Harley said, clasping her hands behind her back and bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Ya wanna try something?”

 

“oh god yes” The words were not the ones Zatanna had intended. Right then intended was probably too strong a word for anything that was happening with her mouth. She was just glad her tongue wasn’t hanging out like she was some cartoon wolf. At least she didn’t think it was. (She was right, it wasn’t.)

 

Harley stepped closer, tilted her head and smiled. 

Now, innocence may seem like an odd thing to talk about when referring to Harley Quinn, she is a very long way away from innocent. But there is an innocence to her, it’s very apparent if you’ve ever seen her on a trampoline, meeting a new cat (Selina is very aware of that one), or listen to Ivy talk about botany. There wasn’t a single trace of that innocence in her smile.

 

“H-Harley?” She was so close now, too close and too far away at the same time, that  agonising in between that is made up entirely of anticipation.

 

“Yeah?” Harley drew the word out, making it about four times as long as it needed to be, the sweet tone of her voice utterly at odds with the smile on her lips and the look in her eye.

 

“What about Ivy?” Zatanna was desperately trying to keep her composure. Desperately trying, and not exactly what you would call succeeding.

 

“Well, we’d have to go back to Gotham for her to join in and this feels like a here an’ now thing. ‘Sides her touch’d burn ya an I don’t think ya wanna get burnt where your ‘bout to get touched.”

 

“I mean” Her words were almost a whine. “I don’t want…”

 

“Red commin’ after you for messin’ with her girl?”

 

Zatanna nodded.

 

“Awww Zee, we ain’t like that!” Harley put her hand on Zatanna’s cheek. “Red’s happy with me makin’ my own fun.”

 

Zatanna noticed two things then, at some point during the conversation Harley had taken off the oven gloves. The other, and possibly more important thing, Zatanna noticed was that her shirt had been undone. She was a magician, stage and actual, and she had no idea how Harley had done that without her noticing.

 

Zatanna leant in and Harley thought she was about to get a kiss. Harley was wrong, Zatanna didn’t kiss, she bit Harleys bottom lip and gave it a playful tug. This wasn’t a kiss, this was better.

 

“Rood eso…” Zatanna began as she pulled back, she was stopped by a finger on her lips.

 

“Leave it open.” 

 

“I do not need my friends and colleagues watching me have sex. Rood esolc.”

 

“hmpf” Harley pouted as the door closed.

 

Two things happened after that night. Zatanna was never allowed to be in the kitchen alone with Harley again, it was even written into the Justice League charter and, the kitchen was more thoroughly disinfected than it had ever been before. Even more so than when they had found a colony of Thangarian Hypno-spores nesting in the cereal.


	6. Wonder Woman

The seventeenth time was not good. It was really not good at all.

 

There were sounds of breaking glass, the occasional wail and an urgent, terrified muttering. Really very not good at all.

It’s not easy to deal with Harley when she’s in that state, there are very few people who can.

Poison Ivy can (she’s Harley’s plant based girlfriend with a toxic touch, not to Harley, but everyone else, has a set up in Gotham Park, protects the homeless kids there) but she was one, in Gotham and two, can’t do space, it takes her too far away from the ground and the plants and the nature she’s a part of.

Joker can (you may have heard of him, if you haven’t don’t worry, you’re not missing much) but not in a good way. Not in a way that anyone but Joker would want.

Batman can but he’s also in Gotham (he somehow never seems to be in The Watchtower when Harley turns up, odd that) and it can get quite destructive.

 

“Harleen?” The voice from the doorway was calm and gentle but it still made Harley turn like she’d heard a gunshot.

 

“imsorryimsorryimsorry” Harley repeated again and again as she started to clean up the broken glass. Her way of cleaning was to scoop it up with her bare hands and arms.

 

“Harleen stop.” Diana said (Diana Prince, Wonder Woman, Princess of Themyscira, The Amazon ambassador to Man’s World, Champion of Athena, Warkiller and a bunch of other titles, all deserved).

 

Harley froze in place, glass slipping back to the floor with a tinkling noise, her eyes darted about, wanting to rest on anything but Wonder Woman. Have you ever tried to not look at Wonder Woman? It’s kinda not possible.

 

Glass crunched beneath Diana’s feet as she took the few steps over to Harley. The sound made Harley wince. She didn’t want to be in trouble, not with Wonder Woman.

 

“May I?” Diana held out her hands, not touching Harley until consent was given.

 

With a slow and gentle firmness she moved Harley away from the glass and sat her down in a chair before getting a first aid kit.

 

Diana worked methodically as she plucked each and every sliver of glass from Harley’s skin. As she was working and without a sigh or a look or a tone she said.

“Now, what happened?”

 

“I… I ran.”

 

Diana nodded with a sympathetic smile as she got the last shard of glass from Harleys right hand. She began to clean and bandage it before moving onto Harley’s left arm.

 

“He, he turned up an’ I could feel myself slippin’ away. So I ran. I may have shot him first.”

 

“You may have shot him?” Diana said raising an eyebrow.

 

“Just a little.”

 

Diana smiled.

“You shot him, but just a little?”

 

“Uh-huh” Harley nodded.

 

“Well, as far as I’m concerned, that seems like the sensible thing to do.”

 

Harley didn’t smile at that but she did relax just the smallest amount.

  
  


“Now” Diana spoke after she had finished bandaging Harley’s arms and hands. “Are you feeling more like yourself?”

 

“I…” She was about to lie but then she didn’t. “No. I think I’m fading away and I can’t feel anything.” To illustrate she banged her arm against the table repeatedly until Diana stopped her.

 

“Do you want me to?”

 

“please” it was a squeak more than a word, her eyes cast down at the floor.

 

Diana placed her lasso in Harley’s hand and they both held onto it.

 

“There are no lies here, not even the ones you tell yourself. This is you Harleen, no one, not man or god can take it from you. This is you and you. Are. Beautiful.”

 

It took a moment and then Harley was overwhelmed with having nowhere to hide from herself and she could feel who she was creeping back up to the surface, flowing back into her.

 

When she let go of the lasso there were tears running down her cheeks and a big smile on her face. The first thing she did was wrap her arms around Diana and lift her up into a tight hug.

 

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”

 

“Always Harleen.” Diana laughed before letting out a sigh as she was put down. 

“He’s out again?” It wasn’t a real question, just words masquerading as a question.

 

“Yeah.” Harley said with a grimace.

 

“Well” Diana said, placing a hand on Harley’s arm. “we’ll just have to see what we can do about that.”


	7. Epilogue

Harley was on a rooftop. She sat dangling her legs over the ledge, feet bouncing off the wall.

 

She chewed gum with loud smacking sounds and hummed and odd little tune to herself.  Just as the tune started to repeat itself again one of the shadows that surrounded her grew a hand and gave her a piece of paper.

 

“Ya changed the access codes again?” Harley asked.

 

“I did.”

 

“Ya know I could just make my own way in.”

 

“This way I don’t have to fix what you break.”

 

“Spoilsport.” Harley gave the paper a quick glance before destroying it. She’d already memorized it. People tended to forget just how smart she is. 

“He’s back in.” Harley said, almost to herself.

 

“He is.” It would have been more to herself had Batman not been there.

 

“That’s good.”

 

“It is.” A little less to herself.

 

She turned to look at Batman for the first time in the conversation.

“Why?” Harley said, entirely not to herself. As a question it was pretty ambiguous but they both knew exactly what she meant.

 

“Everybody should have somewhere they know they’ll be safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that was the nicest thing I've ever written.  
> Please let me know what you think, criticism is always appreciated.


End file.
